


Easy Come and Easy Go

by Meridians_of_Madness



Category: Good Omens (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Anal Sex, Angst, Dark, Denial, Good Omens Kink Meme, Kissing, M/M, Unhealthy Coping Mechanisms, Unhealthy Relationships, Verbal Abuse
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-07
Updated: 2019-12-07
Packaged: 2021-02-24 16:34:52
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,917
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21701029
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Meridians_of_Madness/pseuds/Meridians_of_Madness
Summary: One universe over, an angel and a demon have a much less healthy working relationship. Crowley tempts, Aziraphale succumbs, and nothing is ever right.*Filled for the kink meme prompt locatedhere.
Relationships: Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens)
Comments: 7
Kudos: 115





	Easy Come and Easy Go

It was three in the morning, Aziraphale had lost the thread of what they'd been arguing about, and the only thing he had to hang on to was that he was right, Crowley was wrong, and Crowley was being a veritable prick about it.

Aziraphale sat very straight in his chair as Crowley paced the dark edges of the room, wine glass sloshing in his hand as he went on about some point or another. All Aziraphale knew was that if that damned wine glass spilled, he wouldn't be responsible for his actions.

Finally, Crowley got just a little too close to the cryptogeographica, the wine glass tipped, and only a very quick miracle prevented something truly unpleasant from happening.

“All right,” Aziraphale said, standing up from his chair. “That is quite enough. I do think it is time you leave, Crowley.”

There was a moment, Aziraphale could see, where Crowley wanted to do the decent thing and apologize. Very strange, a demon that occasionally had the urge to do the right thing, but Crowley was a proper demon through and through, and he stifled it neatly. Instead he set the wine glass aside, turning to Aziraphale with a lazy, predatory grace.

“ _That's_ not what you think.”

“It is,” Aziraphale said stiffly. “You have gotten remarkably boorish and dull with the lateness of the hour, and I don't care to entertain you any longer. Please leave.”

Instead, Crowley crossed the floor to stand in front of Aziraphale. He kept his hands to himself, because he had learned better, but he was close enough that Aziraphale could feel the heat from his body, smell the dry cinnamon and dust scent of him.

_He shouldn't smell so very good,_ Aziraphale thought disapprovingly even as his heart started to beat a little faster.

“Crowley,” Aziraphale said, a warning in his voice.

“Don't you look _aggravated_ ,” Crowley said, his voice low and intimate. “Don't you look _fed up_.”

“I am,” Aziraphale said. He was aware that he was being baited. Crowley was hardly subtle. “And you sound cheap.”

Crowley grinned widely at that.

“I am cheap,” he murmured, leaning in until his lips were just an inch from Aziraphale's. “I'm cheap and filthy and disposable, absolutely perfect for an angel who just wants to get it out of his system before he goes back to his precious books. What do you say, angel?”

Aziraphale knew what he should say. He should say no, he should be utterly cutting in his set down, he should laugh and send Crowley on his way. (He should touch Crowley's lip where he had split it last week, ask if it was better, if it still hurt, apologize... no).

Instead he stood stock still for a moment, letting the anger and lust rise up in him until he knew Crowley could feel them, until Crowley drew a low hissed breath. It was safer this way, letting those emotions drown out the rest of what he felt for Crowley. One never knew who might be floating by, eavesdropping...

And it was just easier like this.

Aziraphale liked things that were easy.

“Angel,” Crowley murmured, and Aziraphale landed a light slap on his face, and then he liked it well enough that he repeated the gesture on the other side. Crowley, who was even less stoic than Aziraphale, uttered a soft and wounded cry, stumbling back instinctively before Aziraphale grabbed a fistful of Crowley's shirt and dragged him forward again.

Crowley's cry cut off when Aziraphale's mouth claimed his, teeth knocking together painfully before Aziraphale's tongue plunged in to taste him. Heaven above, but he loved the taste of the demon, loved the slight sting of venom in his spit and the not-quite human savor of something burned. Nothing like it. Nothing so fine as Crowley, no matter how sloppy he was with his wine or how wrong he was about whatever it was that they had been arguing about.

Aziraphale felt Crowley's cock go hard against his thigh, and he let the demon rut against him until he had had his fill of Crowley's mouth. It took him a while. He was starved for Crowley's mouth on his, always was.

“Do you remember when we started?” he murmured, pulling back just a little. “You didn't want to kiss like this.”

Crowley's hands had ended up on his shoulders, nails dug in tight. Behind his sunglasses- which did not come off, no matter what else did- Aziraphale knew his eyes were shut tight.

“So I was wrong. So sue me.”

“No. I think I want to do something else.

It was the work of a few moments to turn Crowley around and to force him over the arm of Aziraphale's favorite chair. It was, no miracle required, the perfect height for what Aziraphale liked best, which was Crowley bent over, not looking at him even through those damned glasses, cries muffled by upholstery.

“Be nice, angel,” Crowley hissed as Aziraphale worked his trousers down to his knees.

Aziraphale paused.

“Is that a request?” he asked carefully. He could be, sometimes. When he was nice, however, it left them both feeling strange, Crowley unable to make eye contact even with the glasses on, Aziraphale possessed of a simmering volatile emotion that he didn't want to call anger.

Crowley was silent for a moment, and when he spoke, his voice was harder.

“No. Fuck no.”

“Good.”

He got Crowley's jeans down just far enough to expose the pale curve of his narrow ass, and he shoved Crowley's shirt and jacket up to show off the graceful dip of his spine. His pale skin was gorgeous against the black clothing, and Aziraphale was already hard when he undid his own trousers, drawing out his cock.

He had learned to keep a bottle of lubricant under the table by the chair. No good signaling anything strange to Heaven, and there was a part of Aziraphale that liked the trouble of it, the way Crowley had to wait, the way that sometimes, it just wasn't enough.

Aziraphale hesitated for a moment and then simply slicked his palm up and down his shaft, paying special attention to the head. He didn't want to have to pause this time, and that meant taking some care.

Not too much though. Too much, and it put them into that strange place again, and he didn't want that tonight on top of everything else.

For a few moments, Aziraphale stroked his cock between Crowley's cheeks, almost teasing, almost kind. He rather thought he could come like this if he took his time, his weight resting on Crowley's, getting them both absolutely messy.

“Get the fuck on with it,” Crowley growled. “Unless you want to fuck me when I'm asleep, angel.”

“Filthy mouth,” Aziraphale commented, keeping his voice mild. Out of Crowley's line of sight, he smiled at how his indifference made Crowley squirm.

“Aziraphale...”

“No, you're right. I shouldn't keep you.”

He pressed the tip of his cock deliberately against Crowley's hole. When they did it like this, cruel, under-prepared, more than slightly vicious, he always had a moment where he thought he couldn't breach him, that Crowley wouldn't allow it. Sometimes Crowley, less concerned with his own accountants, miracled himself open and slick, which...

Aziraphale put that thought away.

Instead, he grit his teeth against the pleasure that pulsed through him, and he pressed himself into Crowley in one deep slow thrust. Crowley's cry was long and unbroken, and he was reduced to gasps and pants for air when Aziraphale was seated deep inside him.

“Please,” Crowley whined. “Please...”

“Shut up,” Aziraphale said, because otherwise he might shatter into a million unacceptable pieces. It was easier to pretend he was savoring Crowley's harsh breathing than it was to simply let Crowley get used to Aziraphale's cock pushed deep inside him. Aziraphale was very good at pretending.

Crowley's sides went in and out like a bellows, and his fingers dug into the cushion under him so hard Aziraphale was surprised he didn't split the upholstery. Slowly, his breaths grew smoother, and Aziraphale started to move.

The pleasure in taking the demon like this was relentless, gathering low in his corporation and drawing tighter and tighter like a garrote. It was low and raw and vicious in a way that felt very much like Heaven did sometimes, and wasn't he a Heavenly creature?

_I am sodomizing him, I am buggering him. I am breaking him open, I am tearing him, I am splitting him apart..._

Aziraphale had a very extensive pornographic vocabulary, and now he used the harsh words as a bulwark against what it might otherwise have been. He told himself what this act was, how brutal it was and how unkind, because it could not be anything else.

Crowley was tight and so smooth around him, and every time the demon thrashed, Aziraphale only fucked him harder. Under Aziraphale's bulk, Crowley was impossibly thin, his bones almost startlingly fragile. When Aziraphale slid his fingers through Crowley's hair and yanked his head back, Crowley cried out desperately, rutting against the cushioned armrest under his hips.

_I'm hurting him. I'm fucking him. I'm treating him like a whore. I don't care if he likes this. I don't care if he hates this..._

Crowley's body tightened almost painfully around Aziraphale, and his cries went high and breathy.

“Angel... oh angel...”

Aziraphale took a fresh grip on Crowley's hair and pressed his face into the cushion. Whatever Crowley was going to say in the midst of his orgasm was lost, and Crowley bucked under Aziraphale, almost strong enough to throw him clear.

_I need to climax quickly, he gets so sensitive after he's done..._

The thought was an errant thing, and Aziraphale quickened his thrusts, his pleasure rising up short and sharp when he finally spilled inside Crowley's body. For a few moments, he pushed in even deeper while he could, his breathing matching Crowley's his eyes closed and his mind that perfect blissful blank that never happened elsewhere.

He stayed as he was until Crowley's hand reached back to graze against his. Aziraphale made a soft noise of assent, drawing away from Crowley with a slow slide that still made the demon groan. He always looked obscene to Aziraphale afterward, stretched with a combination of lubricant and come dripping out of him. No blood this time, which was a relief. Aziraphale hated blood, he hated when-

“I like the look of this,” Aziraphale said, touching the slightly chafed, slightly puffy edges of Crowley's hole with a fingertip. Crowley winced, batting him away as he straightened up. Crowley didn't look at him as he pulled his jeans and underwear on over the sopping mess.

“That's a terrible idea, you know,” Aziraphale said, reaching for a handful of tissues to clean himself.

“Yeah, when I give a fuck about what you think is a good idea, I'll ask you,” Crowley snapped.

Aziraphale only hummed politely in response. He was usually cruel before they did this. Crowley was cruel after. It worked, sort of.

Finally they were both dressed and facing each other again. Crowley's shoulders went up and he stuffed his hands (somehow) into his pockets. He looked like a boy who had suffered a beating and desperately needed to pretend he hadn't.

“Heading out, angel,” he said. “I don't even know why I stayed.”

Aziraphale gave him a long level look.

“Do you know, I don't know why you stay either.”


End file.
